Title: Lady Marshal, part 2 of 4
Author: Tipperary
Disclaimer: see part one
Lady Marshal, part two
Chapter Three: The Marshal's Plan
Thursday…noonish…hot, though cooler because of the higher elevation…perfect red jacket weather…
As predicted, it had taken them a couple of days to get to the newly titled Tower Hill Junction, the longer name due to its position as a rail hub. The place was overcrowded with people and animals, driving Vin away before they even crested the small hill that overlooked it. Chris let the tracker stay out of town – the Seven understood he'd be there if they needed him. The Marshal hadn't said a word, though she was clearly annoyed at the concession.
Ezra grinned wolfishly, taking in the sights and smells of the crowds. People were all around him, rushing to wherever they needed to be, barely paying him any mind. The screeching brakes of the train arriving indicated that soon even more people would be pushing their way into the throngs. He took a deep breath. God he loved the smell of money and greed that permeated this town.
The seven had split up, each finding their various elements. High up on Chaucer's back (the ornery horse nipping at anyone who got to close), Ezra saw that Buck and JD had fallen in with some of the trail hands at a mid-sized saloon, both lawmen playing their parts naturally. Chris had gone straight to one of the more disreputable saloons and was probably brooding in the corner, looking mean and outlawish. (If outlawish was a word…. Ezra thought on that a moment, and decided it made as much sense as any other term).
Josiah was meandering around the shops and merchants, his soothing voice eliciting information while he purchased supplies for the group. Nathan had found a group of ex-slaves gaming in a corner, and had quickly ingratiated himself. Telling them a bit about Four Corners to get them interested in talking, he was keeping an eye out for the Ancient.
The Marshal, meantime, had gone straight to the Sheriff's to alert him of her presence. The gambler saw her standing on the boardwalk in front of the office, her jaw tensing as she was forced to wait for the Sheriff to stop overlooking her. What a fool.
With a shake of his head, Ezra guided Chaucer to the richest looking saloon in the town, and parked him between Chris's Solon and Buck's Gray. The choice was purposeful, as Chaucer would not have put up with being in such close quarters with anyone else. The others had complained, as they had each gone to different taverns, but Ezra had to insist. Chaucer was used to the two large stallions, so he would put up with them, otherwise Ezra'd have to stable the Chestnut. Not a good idea if he needed to get out of town quickly.
The chestnut stallion nipped at Solon, and the bigger black bared his teeth in return. Gray just lowered his head sleepily, as easy going as his master. Chaucer shook his head. He'd put up with these horses…. It didn't mean he had to like them.
Throwing a dusty pat to his horse's hide, Ezra loosened the strap and whispered calming words to the beast. When Chaucer stopped acting up, Ezra straightened his red dovetailed coat, dusted the sleeves, and tugged down on his brocade burgundy waistcoat. The book tucked next to his heart bit into his skin slightly, and he grinned. He always forgot when he stuck a book inside his waistcoat, so used was he to having decks of cards in hidden pockets pressing against his skin. Books were not much different, and usually a lot less thick, albeit wider. The current book he was reading was Othello – inspired by the moniker used by the ex-slave they hunted. He patted it comfortingly, and pulled out a marked deck from his left pocket.
With a sly smile, he headed inside, his eyes surreptitiously looking for Robin Moore. The Texan would be here, using his "genteel" manners to mix with the rich, staking out his next target. Ezra planned to make sure he was nearby when Moore chose the unsuspecting rich rancher that would be losing his cattle.
"For I am an honest man…" Ezra quoted under his breath, spying the handsome blond rustler in the corner almost immediately and gliding over.
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Tuesday, several days later…cool, and, as Ezra would say, ungodly early…
"Stuart James," JD shook his head, amazed. "To think we would be protecting that low life." He leaned against the ridge watching the prairie below with a keen eye.
"Well, at least we can say we're doing this for someone within in our jurisdiction," Vin replied lightly, his eye to his spyglass. He was looking for the herd, knowing that the cowhands would be pushing them through the curtain of the dawn and into this valley soon. This flat area surrounded by ridges was less than two days ride from Tower Hill Junction, and only about a day's ride from Four Corners and the James ranch. Pink and orange light oozed lazily over the brown grasses.
JD sneered, and looked over to where they knew the others were hiding, and then to where he knew the Moore gang was preparing to strike. "I don't know Vin. I'm sort of tempted to just let Moore do his thing. It is certainly more than James deserves. Its not like he couldn't afford the loss."
Vin glanced towards the young man, and lowered the glass. He looked at the ground and licked his bottom lip, wishing just then that it was Buck up on this ridge and not him. "JD…."
JD interrupted him with a wave. "Don't worry, Vin, I'm not serious. It was just a thought. Believe me, I know better."
Vin nodded in return, and sighed thankfully. "Well, in a way we are going to let them get away with it, if we follow the Marshal's plan."
"You mean, waiting until they split up the cattle, then take them out in groups?"
"Yeah," Vin frowned. He didn't like the plan. It meant splitting up the Seven as well. The Marshal had set them each out to follow three groups – She, Chris and Josiah were to follow the western runners, while Ezra, Buck and Nathan the south. Vin and JD would chase the ones that headed southwest.
Moore's plan, as Ezra had found out, was that the rustlers would hit James in this valley, taking half of the two hundred head the man had purchased. Moore had mined the valley with dynamite several days earlier (this Chris had found out from some of the more loose lipped members of the group) planning to set them off right after the raid occurred. That way, James would be to busy trying to keep hold of the remaining hundred to chase the rustlers.
Moore then intended to split up into three groups – one west, one south, and one southwest. As he had fifteen men with him other than his core group, that probably meant groups of five. The Marshal's plan, obviously, was to capture them all as soon as they split, when they would be more vulnerable to capture.
Chris had instantly disagreed.
He argued that they should stay together and chase down Moore, as leader. Without him, the rest would be lost. Plus, the odds would be better that way, and it was how the Seven worked best – as a team. But Garrett wanted them all.
Besides, she couldn't be sure which group Emily would be in.
After ten minutes of debate, the Marshal called the black clad gunslinger on his promise to follow her orders as she dictated. They were here on her sufferance only, she said. She would get the army to help, if need be. She didn't need them. Although, she did mention that she wouldn't hesitate to tell Mrs. Travis about how the great Chris Larabee was not a man of his word.
Chris had fumed, but eventually he nodded. He hated rustlers with a passion and he wasn't going to let Moore get away. Plus, James was a rancher of Four Corners, despicable though he might be, and it was their duty to protect him. He honored his promises, he told Garrett firmly. They would follow her plan. Of course, the others followed their leader.
Now Vin frowned, his chest tightening with anxiety. It was more than the usual nerves that he got before a gunfight. This was fear that the plan was going to go horribly wrong.
JD watched Vin's face, seeing the undisguised emotion there. He swallowed nervously. He too was worried about them splitting up, but Chris had finally said he thought the plan could work. And if Chris was okay with it…
"Here they come," Vin announced. With a shaky breath, JD peered back out over the prairie. In the distance, he could just make out the plume of dust that followed the herd.
"Show time," he whispered to himself, pulling his gun.
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Chris couldn't help but admire the precision with which Moore executed his plan. His band had gone in, raided the herd, and gotten out all without killing any of James's men. Stuart James himself had gotten shot in the arm, but part of Chris couldn't help but smile at the thought. Then, before James could mount a counter attack, the dynamite charges went off, effectively preventing them from doing anything but trying to save their remaining cattle. James was out of the game.
The Marshal and the seven listened in as Moore gathered everyone together a few miles away, and split them up. Moore headed west with eight men; Michael Cash went southwest with three; and the Ancient and Emily rode south with four.
With a nod to the others, the seven moved out after them. Only the Marshal hesitated as she watched Emily head south. Chris grabbed her arm, reminding her that this was her plan. With a curt nod, Garrett followed him as they went west after Moore.
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By far the largest contingent had gone with the handsome young leader of the merry men, taking almost half of the stolen cattle with them. The group of eight outlaws headed west quickly, before finally stopping for a late lunch near a small stream. They were fairly exposed, meaning it was going to be difficult to sneak up on them, though the tall grasses surrounding the dirt clearing provided some cover. The wind blew coldly across the wheat colored stalks, brushing them down in circles and creating a somewhat eerie background noise to the lawmen's actions.
The outlaws had set up camp as any cowboys might, with the cattle off to one side calmly eating the grass. Only three men watched the cattle, the rest either cooking or sleeping under the warm sun. Moore himself had wandered over to the shallow stream, kneeling at the water while he stared dreamily southward.
Leaving their horses behind some large boulders, the peacekeepers silently crept forward towards the camp on their bellies. Silently, the Marshal directed Chris to take right flank and Josiah the left, while she went down the middle. The two men disappeared into the brush, and Garrett exhaled through her teeth as she considered just how much she was relying on them to do their job. After a moment, she moved forward some more until she was barely ten feet from the campsite, lying next to a mid sized rock.
"Three, two, one…"she muttered to herself, "go." Swiftly, she stood up, rifle raised and pointed directly at where Moore had been filling a canteen with water.
"DON'T MOVE," she yelled. "My name is Marshal Garrett, and you are all under arrest for cattle rustling and kidnapping. Put up your guns and stand with your hands up."
"You heard the Marshal!" Chris shouted from where he stood just north of the camp. He too had his rifle raised, his aim covering the three men hovering around the herd.
"Please," Josiah added jovially. "I don't want to blow too many of you up." He stood on the opposite side, his rifle pointed at the wagon upon which Moore and his men had their supplies and, the lawmen knew, some of the gunpowder and dynamite used for the charges. It was also in the same general direction as the four men sitting around the cook fire.
Robin stood slowly, his hands outstretched from his sides, away from his guns. He waved his men not to react, and to do as she commanded.
"Marshal Garrett, so nice to see you again," the man drawled, his Texan accent rolling as smoothly off his tongue as the most charming politician. "I must say, this is a surprise."
"You are going to jail, Moore. You and your men are done -- all of them. As we speak, your other little side groups are also being rounded up." She stepped forward as she spoke, until she was standing inside the dirt clearing about five feet from the younger man. Her rifle bead never wavered from where it was drawn on the young man.
If Moore was dismayed by the news he showed no sign, instead he simply grinned. "Well, sounds like you have everything well planned. Emily will be impressed."
Garrett paused, her eyes narrowing in annoyance. "I don't believe you care one whit about what my ward thinks."
"Oh, but that's not true. Why, Emily and I have long talks during our nights together…. When we're not otherwise occupied, of course."
She lowered the gun slightly, her face contorted with anger and spat in his direction. "You filthy bastard," she hissed, moving closer to him. Moore chuckled, and Chris frowned. She was getting too close.
"Come, come, Marshal, she is a mature woman now."
"If you forced her into anything…."
"Now, Marshall, why would I do a thing like that?" A winning smile lit upon his handsome face, and his blue eyes sparkled. "Surely, you must know I would never deliberately harm my wife."
"WHAT!" Garrett nearly dropped the rifle in her shock, giving Moore the opening he needed. With a flick of his wrist, he had a derringer in hand and pointing at the Marshal's head. Instantly, Chris twisted where he stood to adjust his aim to cover Moore, ready to fire.
BOOM!
Chris staggered sideways and he heard the cattle scream, his eyes widening as he realized that the cattle were now suddenly stampeding wildly in his direction. When he'd changed his aim to cover Garret, one of the men guarding the cattle had set off a charge behind the beasts. Losing his gun, Chris took off running, desperately trying to stay out of the herd's way.
Reacting quickly, Josiah did as he promised and shot up the wagon. An even larger explosion rocked the plain, sending the cattle in a more northerly direction and away from the black-clad gunslinger. It also provided the preacher with the cover he needed to get away. Over the noise of the outlaws scrambling for their guns and the still exploding wagon, he heard his leader's sharp high-pitched whistle calling Solon. Instantly, the black horse appeared from behind the boulder and charged directly for the man in black.
The almost simultaneous second explosion had thrown off Moore's aim, the derringer's bullet missing Garret's skull by inches, and he staggered to the left as the air rushed past his head. Seeing the opening, Garrett clocked him with her rifle butt, then took off running as bullets suddenly began to ricochet around her. She barely noticed as one grazed her arm.
Chris threw himself onto Solon's back and was quickly beside Garrett, sweeping her up into the saddle behind him as they headed back to the large boulders where her horse and Josiah's Quincy still hid.
The preacher ran for all he was worth, not even slowing as he heard Moore yelling at the others to stop shooting and go after the cattle. Moments later, he was behind the boulders with the others, untying the horses and pulling himself up onto Quincy's back just as the Marshal jumped up onto hers. They took off for the cover of the trees to the east of the campsite, knowing full well that any chance they had to capture Moore off guard now was completely gone.
Chris just hoped the others had fared better than they did.
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"What do you think?" Nathan whispered. They were on a ridge overlooking the place where Emily, the Ancient and four others had stopped for lunch.
"We need to get her out first," Buck noted. "She might get caught in the crossfire otherwise."
"You know," Ezra pursed his lips. "She doesn't exactly look like a kidnap victim to me."
"Nope," Nathan affirmed darkly. Emily was wandering about the camp, dressed in breeches and a short tan duster, the white Stetson on her head cocked at an angle. Her long blond hair was thick on her head, framing her small heart shaped face beautifully. Buck had whistled appreciatively upon seeing her for the first time. There was no question why Moore had fallen for her. A mixture of innocence and complete confidence in her ability to take care of herself radiated from her posture. She handled the rifle over her shoulder with skill as well, having been part of the hunting party that had retrieved the rabbits for lunch.
"Well, a promise is a promise," Buck shrugged.
Ezra leaned forward, tapping a long piece of grass against his chin. "At some point she will have to separate from her compatriots to, shall we say…."
"Perform her ablutions?" Nathan finished, quoting Ezra from the time they'd been on the wagon train. Ezra half smiled.
"In a manner of speaking," the gambler agreed. "I'll capture her and take her behind those trees yonder," he pointed to a small copse of trees on the other side of the campsite. "As soon as I give you the signal, start firing. We'll get them between us."
"Sounds good. Wish we had the others here though." Nathan said, as he watched the Ancient talk quietly to Emily. She looked to be arguing with him about something, though they couldn't hear what. Moments later, she slapped the old man across the face and stalked off. She headed for the trees, beyond which there was a small river.
"Goodness, wonder what that was for?" Buck mused.
"I couldn't even begin to hazard a guess, Mr. Wilmington, however," Ezra jumped to his feet, "it has provided us with the opportunity we need." He jogged off, his body almost bent in two in order to stay low, disappearing into the tall grass. Moments later, the two lawmen saw him skirt behind the camp and into the trees on the far side. Nathan shook his head. The gambler's red jacket burned like a fire beacon in his vision – he was always amazed the gambler could sneak past anyone wearing that thing.
Ezra peered around the trees in time to see Emily crouch down by the river, her hands dipping into the water to wash her face. He shoulders shook slightly, and she appeared to be wiping tears from her face. Over the rush of the river, she was oblivious to the gambler as he crept up behind her.
With one swift move, he wrapped a hand across her mouth and pressed the Remington into her side. She inhaled deeply, indicating that she planned to scream as soon as he loosed his grip.
"I wouldn't," he drawled, pressing the gun deeper. "Now, I'm going to lower my hand. You make one sound and I'll clock you on the back of your head with this gun hard enough to knock you out. Now, I don't enjoy hurting people, particularly women, but, frankly, self-preservation is far more important to me than principle in moments like these. Do I have your cooperation?"
After a moment, Emily nodded. Slowly, Ezra lowered his hand and backed off, gun still pointed at her. She turned to face him, her eyes widening as she recognized the gambler from the saloon where her Robin had met Stuart James.
"You," she hissed. He'd ingratiated himself with Robin, and her lover had let him overhear their plans. He'd seemed so harmless. Looking into his cold eyes now, Emily realized what fools they had been. "Robin trusted you," she muttered unhappily.
"Please put your hands in front of you, Miss Durgin." He reached around his back with his free hand for the handcuffs that the Marshal had given them.
"Mrs. Moore," Emily corrected quietly, doing as she was ordered with a downcast expression. Ezra hesitated only momentarily upon hearing the new information, then snapped the cuffs into place on her wrists.
"Then I'm sorry to have to do this, Mrs. Moore. But I'm afraid I work for somebody who cares very much about your welfare. She is under the mistaken impression that you were kidnapped."
Emily looked up, "She?"
"Marshal Garrett."
"Vee is here? Oh God." The young girl shut her clear blue eyes, turning her face away from him.
"Obviously, you were not kidnapped, which is why I've had to cuff you," he explained, to which Emily simply nodded understandingly. "But what your husband does, however romantic, is against the law. His thieving raises the price of cattle for everyone, and puts those small farmers that he sells to in a great deal of danger. Men like Stuart James are not good men, Emily. If he were to ever try and get retribution for what you've done, I guarantee he would not hesitate to hurt any of those small ranchers in order to get at you." Emily opened her eyes as he spoke, but she didn't respond to the argument.
"Not to mention what he would do to any of you, had he managed to catch you first," he added. When she again didn't respond, Ezra sighed, and pulled out a white handkerchief from his coat pocket.
"Just thought you should hear the other side, my dear." He stepped forward and stuffed the handkerchief unceremoniously into her mouth. She gagged slightly, and he looked properly contrite. "Sorry. Self-preservation instincts again," he smiled, flashing a gold tooth. She didn't respond, her eyes looking tired. Leaving her standing there, he moved to the river and retrieved her white hat from a rock. He handed it to hold in her cuffed hands.
"This'll all be over soon," he stated, taking her gently by the arm, "and I promise that we will not harm anyone unless we have to, okay?" She looked at him balefully for a moment, then nodded.
Quietly, he led them back through the trees until they were once more on the outskirts of camp. Sitting Emily down next to a tree, he pulled out a second handkerchief and waved it at the ridge.
"There he is," Buck grinned. He stood up, and loudly cocked his rifle. A ways down the ridge, Nathan stood as well and did the same.
"GENTLEMEN!" Buck yelled down to the camp. Five pairs of eyes swiveled upwards. "I advise that you lay down your arms. You are surrounded, and we have no problem in shooting your prizes in order to get to you!" He raised the rifle to his eye, as did Nathan. Down by the trees, Ezra showed himself enough to be seen, guns in both his hands.
The men in the camp checked out their adversaries, then did what was instinctive. They went for their guns.
"Why don't they ever listen!" Buck yelled in frustration, firing downwards. Nathan aimed for the cattle, spooking them and getting them to run off. Ezra aimed for their guns, and for the wagon on which he knew there was some powder hidden. Seconds later, his aim hit true, and the wagon went up in an explosive blaze, throwing men to the ground with their hands over their heads. Up on the ridge, Buck laughed, and even Nathan cracked a smile.
The Ancient bellowed at his men to lower their weapons, which they did. As Ezra had promised, no one was seriously hurt – just dazed from the blast and the craziness of the gunfight. The gambler grinned, and stood up, his eyes on the camp. He never saw Emily behind him as she raised the heavy branch in her cuffed hands.
Then all he knew was blackness.
Emily dropped the branch, momentarily shocked by all the blood on the back of his head. She couldn't see him breathing, and all that blood everywhere – she even had some of it on her shirt. Horror filled her as she realized what she'd done.
She'd killed him.
Getting a hold of herself, she pulled the gag from her mouth, and fumbled for his Remington with her hands. Moments later, she stepped out of the woods.
"LOWER YOUR GUNS!" She yelled up at the ridge. "Lower them or he dies!" The young girl pointed the gun two-handed at the man on the ground, hoping they couldn't see that he was already dead, her hands shaking. The men in the camp turned to look at her, and the Ancient smiled.
Buck looked down at the red coated body, unable to see the blood from his vantage point. But that Ezra was unconscious was obvious. He glanced at Nathan, who bit his lip and nodded in return.
"Okay, okay," Buck called down to her. "Don't hurt him!" He threw his rifle down and raised his hands. Next to him, the healer did the same. In the camp, the outlaws picked up their own guns and trained them on the lawmen.
"I think you'd best come down here, boys!" The Ancient called up. The two lawmen did as they were ordered, and slipped down the ridge carefully. Behind them, the three lawmen's horses whickered curiously where Ezra had ground tied them. Chaucer pulled at his reins, pulling them free of the other two. Moments later Gray and Gideon were alone as a couple of the Ancient's men arrived to collect them.
Down at camp, someone was tying up Buck's wrists, while Nathan looked worriedly over at where Ezra still lay. Emily had joined them, the Remington tucked into her pants. She seemed totally disinterested in them, her blue eyes fixed dispassionately on the ground. As the same man who tied up Buck moved to tie up the healer, Nathan tried to pull away.
"No wait, please. I'm a healer. Let me go check up on my friend, please." Emily looked up at his words, her eyes wet.
"No need. He's already dead," she stated hoarsely.
The Ancient's head snapped up at the news, obviously surprised. She stared back at him for a moment before walking away towards to horses. In the background, three men took off after the running cattle.
Nathan just blinked, not even noticing as the ropes bit into his skin. He continued to look at Ezra, unwilling to believe it. But the gambler hadn't moved since they came down the hill, and the blood on the ground by his head was spreading.
Buck shut his eyes, and brought his bound hands up to cover his face. When he dropped them a few minutes later, it was to shoot a murderous glare at the retreating back of Miss Emily Durgin.
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Michael Cash had the smallest group, with only three men and less than twenty cattle. He was, however, leaving the most obvious trail. Vin didn't even have to get off his horse to see the huge swath Cash was creating. When the huge man and his henchmen stopped for lunch, Vin and JD were already ahead of them, hiding in the small canyon Cash would have to cut through.
Vin checked his Winchester a few times before looking across to where JD was on the other side. JD saw his gaze and held up the stick of dynamite he was holding, showing he was ready. The plan was simple. As soon as Cash entered, they would pin him down and trap the men and the cattle inside the canyon. JD would throw his stick of dynamite behind them, while Vin threw one up ahead, blocking the two exits. So long as the cows didn't freak so much that they ran down the four outlaws on horses, it should be easy to capture them.
Still, Vin knew that nothing was simple. He was frightened, and something was gnawing at his gut. Dispelling the feeling, he put up his spyglass and watched as Cash drew his men together to head out. Slowly, they made it to the canyon. Cash rode in front with an old Indian scout, while the two other outlaws rode behind the quiet herd.
After what seemed like an eternity, they were all in, and Vin gave JD the signal.
Simultaneously, two sticks of dynamite were thrown, and the ensuing rockslides rained down as predicted. It was all the four outlaws could do not to be trampled by the frightened cows. By the time they could look up, it was to see both JD and Vin staring down their rifles.
"Throw away from your guns and put your hands up!" JD shouted. "My name is Sheriff Dunne and you lot are under arrest. If you do not do as we tell you, Vin will pick you off one by one, understand?"
As proof, Vin shot a Colt out of the hand of one of the outlaws who looked like he was tempted to use it. Cash twisted in his seat and told his men to stand down and do as they are told.
"Today, we do as you ask," Cash called up, his thick Italian accent coloring the words. "But tomorrow, watch your backs!"
Vin grimaced but didn't drop his aim. JD quickly made his way to the canyon floor and shackled the prisoners. The entrance and exits to the canyon were not so blocked that they couldn't get out if they moved single file, and, under Vin's watchful eye, the men did just that.
"Where are we going," Cash asked finally, as they quietly made it out of the canyon.
"Four Corners jail, Cash, where you will soon be joined by the rest of your merry men." JD replied gruffly, his gun loose in his hand. "Now move it."
Behind them, Vin shuddered as another wave of dread washed over him.
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Continued in Part Three